


Kravclint. Look, what else is there to say?

by StarishSparkles



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crack, Crack Relationships, Crack Treated Seriously, Fluff and Humor, Injury, M/M, Pre-Canon, References to Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-17 06:08:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29095518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarishSparkles/pseuds/StarishSparkles
Summary: So. I cosplayed Clint Mcelroy embezzling janitor a while back and made a silly video about Kravitz chasing him because he obviously doesn't belong in this realm, and tt user @/ moredepresso commented that I made them ship kravclint - and this fic was born! They have no idea I wrote this lmaoDon't take it too seriously, I had a great time writing it and I just wanna share it with y'all
Relationships: Kravitz/Clint Mcelroy
Comments: 6
Kudos: 10





	Kravclint. Look, what else is there to say?

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, if y'all are interested my tiktok kravclint videos - because yes, I did cosplay Clint a third time solely to make crackship videos - are on tiktok under the tag #kravclint lmao

The first time Kravitz saw him was soon after his own death, when he was barely a reaper and still learning the ropes. He’d barely paid the man any attention at the time, having been trying to open a portal, his only startling feature at a glance being that he was holding a mop and no other cleaning utensils, which seemed odd but as he disappeared into a crowd he soon slipped from Kravitz’s mind.

-

The next time Kravitz saw the man with the mop was two years later, on the other side of Faêrun, having a drink in a tavern with his mop leaning against the bar. Kravitz silently noted, in professional mode immediately, that he was roughly 6 feet tall, had short white hair, large glasses and appeared to be a human - although his class was unknown. The man was wearing the same blue overalls and hadn’t seemed to age a day, so naturally as an upholder of the laws of life and death Kravitz felt it was within his jurisdiction to investigate - not to mention his personal curiosity. However, as he tried to approach the man invisibly, he looked up and Kravitz swore their eyes met for just a second before the man stepped off the barstool and melted into the thrum of the busy tavern and try as he might, Kravitz couldn’t find him anywhere.

-

There were many times Kravitz saw the man in the following century, simply in passing on the street or in the background of large crowds, picking up litter after a performance from a magical chef, but it took another half-century before Kravitz saw him face to face, to the point that he had almost slipped his mind completely. He’d been investigating the case of a lich who’d been seen in the area recently when he just so happened to catch a flash of silver hair heading down a winding street once again. 

It was only intuition and a dash of hope that lead him to follow the whim, keeping his hands ready to summon his scythe as he rounded the corner quickly, only to come face to face with the man, standing with his hands on his hips – definitely waiting for him. He was startled back in a way that made him look a lot more guilty than he previously considered himself to be, and tried to play it off. To his surprise though, the man didn’t seem upset, just curious, and he cocked his head to one side as he eyed Kravitz up and down.

This close Kravitz could see that he was definitely human, roughly in his sixties with a circle beard and sparkling eyes, and- what? Kravitz blinked, and although he knew he was mumbling out excuses he found it difficult to formulate a valid one, as he couldn’t imagine ‘I’m a reaper following you because I think you might be a necromancer’ would go down well. It was only in the second before he turned away that Kravitz noticed that his overalls had a name label - reading ‘Clint’ – and then he was gone, leaving Kravitz in the middle of the street alone.

Curious, Kravitz made it his mission for the next few months to learn everything he could about this mysterious man, asking questions and looking up names to try and understand who this Clint could be. He found many people under the name, and the description he had didn’t narrow it down much, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that no matter how hard he searched he wouldn’t find anything helpful. 

As time went on once again and Kravitz continued with his duties as a reaper, he paid less and less attention to the documents he’d compiled – but he couldn’t quite forget his knowing smile. He could admit to himself, sitting on the beach by the glittering, murmuring sea of souls that his interest in this possibly-necromantic character (although he wasn’t in the book, Kravitz was still unsure) wasn’t really at all professional – he held a certain level of aesthetic enchantment in Kravitz’s artist eyes and found the thought of Clint a perplexing and interesting one.

He made up his mind to speak to him the next time they crossed paths, for he had no doubt they would, and no longer than three days later Clint stumbled back into his life.

Literally.

\- 

Kravitz had been travelling through the lovely town of Ravens Roost on foot (he preferred it to travelling through rifts when possible, as moving through spacetime made his bones tingly and he didn’t approve of the sensation) when a figure crashed into him from seemingly nowhere, and as he caught himself and the stranger as best he could he realised that it was none other than Clint - except this time his white t-shirt was stained dangerously with red and his eyes seemed glazed over, his breath heavy and laboured. 

Kravitz staggered back, and tried to lead Clint away from the busy street, maybe find a doctor (his skin felt worryingly cold even under Kravitz’s hand) but in an instant he felt a strong arm grab his elbow and spin him around, ending up backwards with his arm twisted the wrong way. He cried out, from surprise more than pain as he shifted to incorporeal to escape, and as Clint’s hand slipped through his spectral arm he lost his balance and slumped to the ground, hitting the cobblestones as he lost consciousness.

Kravitz froze for a moment before kneeling down – he wasn’t sensitive about death, not anymore, but he’d had an unwavering sense of certainty every time that he would cross paths with Clint again. Even as time progressed further than two, three, five human lifetimes he hadn’t wavered - but here, with the man passed out and bleeding after coming from apparently nowhere? Kravitz found he didn’t want to leave him, reap his soul as an agent of death should, so – in a manner he would repeat many times for various beings over his lifetime – Kravitz helped him.

-

In the next few years Kravitz thought often of that day. Finding a doctor willing to treat a man in his condition, being ushered out of the room as they worked, pacing with a worry he hadn’t exerted over any creature in a long time until they returned to tell him that they couldn’t have saved him, that the metal found in his chest had caused too much damage before he arrived.

His heart had dropped, even though he never knew the man he realised he’d felt a sense of camaraderie through their shared longevity, necromancer or no, and his death hit him in a way that made him feel suddenly painfully alive, connected to the world in a way he hadn’t been in a long time and half-wished he could undo. From the next room, there had been a loud crash, and both of them spun around to see that the examination room was empty and the back door was swinging open, with a small trail of blood, harsh red, leading away. Although the doctor had run over to investigate, Kravitz somehow knew Clint wouldn’t be found, and let out a shaky sigh as he turned away and, summoning his scythe, stepped into his home plane to get a drink.

He kept a better eye out after that.

-

He had expected to see Clint in passing again, and kept his eye out for crowds and large towns as he visited – but he didn’t seem to be anywhere around. Kravitz had never actively seeked him out and wasn’t about to start now, and when he was called into his Queen’s hall it didn’t even occur to him that it might be related – so, standing tall with his hands respectfully behind his back, Kravitz stood stock still as the goddess of death relayed her message. 

“Kravitz, Istus contacted me recently with a request. Apparently you’ve had a few run-ins with a human named Clint Mcelroy? He shouldn’t be here—he definitely isn’t from here – and I’ve been tasked with detaining him for the time being as Istus seems curious about him, you know how she gets when something changes about fate. It shouldn’t be too different from your normal bounties, although if you aren’t willing to - if he’s your friend - I won’t force you to break that bond. I can ask someone else.” She offered him a warm smile – she knew he found the job lonely, as much as he enjoyed working under his Queen – and he let his pose fall to one a little more casual as he answered. 

“He’s not in the book, but I knew he wasn’t human in the regular sense as the first time I saw him was centuries ago. I investigated him as much as I could at the time, but he has this habit of just disappearing-”

“Plane-hopping.” Kravitz looked up, confused, and the Raven Queen continued. “Clint Mcelroy is an interplanar being, he can travel among them with ease but apparently, he favours ours.” 

Kravitz wanted to tell her that he hadn’t seen the man since his injury and sincerely doubted he’d be back any time soon, but knowing that he shouldn’t have saved him kept his mouth shut about it as he agreed to search. She briefed him on the details; not releasing him of his usual duties as Clint was unsurprisingly well-known as a man who didn’t stick around for long – he was only to search for him when he had no bounties (or happened to come across him, although his Queen assured him this was highly unlikely to be a valid option). 

-

Two days later Kravitz stepped through his portal – and walked straight into Clint. He was half a foot taller but unprepared so he was the one who stumbled back, falling halfway back through the portal before Clint grabbed him by the shoulder and yanked him forward roughly. The portal closed up behind them, and they were left standing in an empty side street in the centre of Neverwinter, eyeing each other warily. 

It was Clint who spoke first. “A reaper, huh? I thought so when I saw you the first time, at the bar, but you really threw me for a loop when you tried to save me. Let me guess, your Istus wants to speak to me because I shouldn’t be in this plane, so the Raven Queen sent you to come and retrieve me. This isn’t my first fantasy rodeo, Mr tall dark and handsome, so you’ll have a hard time getting me-” and he poked Kravitz in the chest with the head of his mop, “-to go anywhere.” 

Kravitz was taken aback, and coughed, his work accent firmly in place as he eyed him up and down critically. “How do you know that? Do you have a spy? Are you telekinetic? What do you know of the Raven Queen’s dealings? And uh, thank you.” 

Clint blinked, seemingly realising what he’d said, and replied a little too quickly to be casual. “How about we find something to eat, huh? Nothing like debating your freedom over some Olive Garden breadsticks.” Kravitz nodded, on the condition that he wouldn’t bolt, and they made their way in the kind of uncomfortable silence of two people who should be having a very important conversation and now that it’s been put off they aren’t quite sure what to say.

“So, what made you become a reaper?”

Kravitz raised an eyebrow, and dryly replied “I died,” and watched with no small amount of amusement as Clint stumbled over his apology. He chuckled, and elaborated – “I wanted to be a violinist, you know. But illness got me before I ever had the chance, so when I was offered a job by my Queen I didn’t have much to lose. It’s very rewarding, contrary to what you might think, and—sorry, I’m rambling.” 

Clint shook his head and smiled, surprising his companion, assuring him he didn’t mind and the silence became more comfortable as they arrived at the entrance to the Neverwinter Olive Garden. The server addressed Clint, asking him if it was just the two of them and where they’d like to sit, and Kravitz didn’t question it (he wasn’t exactly used to social interaction after all) until they were seated and she asked him what ‘his date’ would like to eat. Kravitz looked up confused, and Clint’s face flushed red as he assured her they were just here for business. She apologised and took their orders, and as she left Kravitz pulled a notebook from a pocket dimension and laid it on the table. “Let’s talk.”

In the next hour they sorted out some details Kravitz had been curious about surrounding plane-hopping, what Clint knew of the gods’ dealings in this realm, and ate a frankly alarming amount of breadsticks. Clint had made a joke that it was good they were both immortal, which had prompted another round of questions that Clint seemed perfectly happy to answer. 

“So you’ll come talk to Istus?” Clint looked up from where he’d been colouring in a picture of an anthropomorphic olive with very small crayons, the one in his hand a terrible shade of lime green. 

“I’ve had some bad experiences with gods who think I’m dangerous, I’ll pass on this one.” Something passed behind his eyes that Kravitz, for all his years, couldn’t identify, and he let his chin rest on his hands as he considered. He didn’t want to fight Clint, at this point he wasn’t certain he’d win, but he couldn’t simply leave his Queen’s request unfulfilled. Maybe he could convince him, maybe trick him into it?

Meanwhile, a smile had begun to creep over Clint’s face. He put down the crayon and leaned forward, and Kravitz eyed him suspiciously as he started to explain his idea. “If you can catch me, I’ll go see your god. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a good run, not since ~~Tesseralia,~~ and a word of advice, reaper, there are only so many planes left to find me.”

Kravitz stared at him - only so many planes? - but didn’t ask and instead thought about the proposition. “catch you? In what context? Because I could just-“ and he reached his arm out. Clint tilted himself back on his chair and raised his arms in a no-no gesture, smiling now that Kravitz seemed to be getting it.

“Can you?”

Kravitz rolled his eyes and kicked Clint’s chair leg, not breaking eye contact as he wobbled, tipped over and landed on the ground with an oof. The other customers turned to glare at them, and Clint apologised as he pulled his chair back up and they shared a look as he sat down.

“Terrible etiquette, you know. What would RQ say?”

Kravitz shrugged, unable to keep a completely straight face as he answered. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Clint grinned. 

-

The next time, Clint found him.

He’d recently heard about a necromantic cult that was recruiting around Goldcliff, and had gone to investigate as was his duty. He’d found a group much less impressive than advertised, barely necromancers, huddled inside a cave around a few bundles of herbs and nothing else, so he let them off with a warning (not without materialising as a skeleton in a tattered robe in the middle of their ceremony, but he was allowed a little fun) and was just poking through the scene to see what they’d been up to when he heard the strumming of a lute.

He dropped the dried flowers he was holding, startled, and as his body melted from his usual formal look back into his necromancer-scaring form the lute stopped and a clapping could be heard from somewhere further in the cave.

For a moment Kravitz thought there was another necromancer, then they stepped forward and, stringed instrument in one hand and pick in the other, Clint grinned and waved, before continuing to strum as he tapped his foot to the beat. Kravitz didn’t recognise the tune, but Clint hummed along as the song reverberated around the cave, giving it a strange sense of fun and Kravitz cocked his head.

“Give me 5 minutes to clean up here and I’ll be out, I’m under strict instructions to put my usual work over catching you.” Clint laughed, loud and open as he continued to play, and Kravitz couldn’t deny the place seemed a lot less ominous with the tropical tune bouncing off the walls. 

Once he’d cleaned up all the rudimentary spell components and smudged their chalk circle with his heel (lifting his cape out of the way, he prided himself on his aesthetic) he turned around to see Clint humming the last few lines of the song – one Kravitz didn’t recognise – and cocked his head. “what’s it called?”

“Mañana by Jimmy Buffet, my eldest loves his music – heard of him?”

Kravitz shook his head, and Clint shrugged as he escorted the reaper outside. The outskirts of Goldcliff glittering in their peripheral, Clint picked up his mop from where it had been leaning against a wall, covering his eyes from the drastic change in lighting. Meanwhile, Kravitz eyed his lute curiously, he was quite the musician but had never seen one like it. He noticed and held it up. “Like it? I went home to get this guitar, missed playing y’know.”

Kravitz looked up, and mouthed ‘guitar?’ as he straightened up. Clint seemed surprised, and quickly explained that it was similar to a lute, native to his home plane. He seemed a little wistful, but shook it off fairly quickly. He pulled the strap over his head and put the guitar in a hard black case that he’d left at the entrance of the cave – Kravitz supposed nobody would steal it, being in the middle of nowhere as they were.

They spent a few awkward seconds deciding what to say, and his Queen’s bounty hung over Kravitz’ head as Clint scuffed the ground with his boots. 

_A gleeful voice neither of them could hear announced ‘Roll Initiative!’_

Kravitz teleported forward, reaching for Clint’s shoulder, and was easily batted away as Clint ducked and knocked him over. The guitar was leant against the wall and mop braced in front of him as Clint let out a laugh, readying his action for when Kravitz came at him again.

Kravitz grinned – he wasn’t above a game, and he lost nothing if Clint got away. He stood up, saluted, and blinked into the astral plane. He saw Clint cock his head as he watched the space Kravitz had occupied intently, and he ran forward to ready himself to grab the mop out of Clint’s hands for when he popped back into existence. Just before he could, Clint whacked him on the head with it and sprinted backwards, huffing but still laughing as he watched Kravitz recoil in surprise. He returned to the material plane with his hands clasped over his head, looking equal parts shocked and offended. “You- you can- you hit me with your mop!”

From his safe point ten feet away, Clint flipped him off and grinned.

Kravitz thought for just a moment before grabbing one side of his cape and throwing it behind him with as much flair as he could muster, eyes glowing red, and rose a few feet in the air as he felt the dust beneath his feet begin to whip around him.

Clint panicked and couldn’t decide a direction to run fast enough and so Kravitz bowled directly into him, mop skidding a few feet away and effectively pinning him to the ground. Clint grunted, having hit the ground with some force, and looked up at Kravitz, a little breathless. “Giving up so soon?”

Kravitz let his eyes die down to their usual rich brown, not taking the bait, and grinned despite himself – anyone else would be terrified, and the challenge wasn’t unwelcome. A moment later Clint cleared his throat, eyebrows raised amusedly, and it took Kravitz only a few seconds to realise how close their faces were and he jerked back, face flushing traitorously. 

Something in the air changed as their eyes met, and with no fanfare Clint leant up just enough to kiss him quickly, square on the lips. He pulled back immediately, regret colouring his features, until Kravitz leaned in and Clint made a small sound of surprise, kissing back eagerly. It felt like hours before he pulled back and moved far enough back to let them both sit up. 

A smug smile tugged at Kravitz’s lips as he realised the implications of what had just happened, and Clint rolled his eyes good naturedly as Kravitz announced his victory to the open desert. He couldn’t deny the challenge was still thrumming through his veins, and Clint grinned, his enthusiasm infectious. “I bested the great Clint Mcelroy, planewalker and embezzling janitor-“ 

“Hey, who told you that?”

“-and now he’s going to hold up his end of the bargain! But nobody knows yet, and that means I can do this-!” he pulled Clint by his collar towards him – unnecessary, he would’ve gone willingly, but Clint couldn’t say he minded – and pressed their lips together triumphantly. 

Clint kissed him that time, and the next time, and the next.   
  
Sometime later, with the portal to the Raven Queen’s throne room open in front of them, Kravitz looked at their entwined hands and smiled, unrepentant. “My queen is going to kill me, I’ll never hear the end of this.”

Clint stared at him. “What the fuck happened to your accent?”


End file.
